


So tonight I'm goin....yeeeah

by Black, smooshkin



Series: KingSlayer [1]
Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Body Dysphoria, M/M, Sarif is a smooth operator, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black/pseuds/Black, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smooshkin/pseuds/smooshkin
Summary: David Sarif grows concerned with the well being of his newly augged chief of security and decides to pay him a visit.





	So tonight I'm goin....yeeeah

**Author's Note:**

> I trusted Smooshkin to take my hand and lead me into the wonderful world of Jensif and I could not be happier with the result. We talked about it for a bit and decided to share some of our roleplays because damn, that interaction is just too good. Smoosh plays such a canon Sarif that it blows my mind. From the fucking speech patterns down to the subtle body language. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it as much as we have - There's more to follow. 
> 
> Smooshkin is Sarif and he kicks off the RP, I follow in with Adam. Each post is separated so you can easily tell where Sarif ends and Adam begins.
> 
>  
> 
> Also the title: [Please click](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhJ2G7PZSkY)  
> you're welcome

=*=

Detroit was heaving. After the attack on Sarif Industries, the energy was static in the streets. They always recovered, but the people were always acutely in-tune with the action of the city that always moved. Forward.  
  
David Sarif would be sure of that. Tirelessly, day and night. Things would recover and, by his hand, be better for it.  
  
He loved to sit and watch the city breath when the sun went down. Watch the rise and fall of it's sleepless motion- it's aureate blood in the streets below. Thoughtful. Pensive. So much to think about. He'd cross a leg over the other and lean onto the arm of the lounge in his office. The one on the right, closest the window.  
  
His thoughts soared over the city. His staff. His security. Adam. Elegant brows furrowed the slightest bit as he allowed himself a dip in the past.  
  
Adam didn't deserve what had happened to him. And he'd make sure he'd be better for it, too.On that note- he had set down his drink carefully on a coaster as he remembered words he'd heard over a lifetime ago.  
  
A good leader needs to have a compass in his head and a bar of steel in his heart- No, that wasn't it.  
  
True leadership is servanthood. To lead people, walk behind them.  That was it. He stood up, the city forgotten for the moment and he passes to his desk. That was the one.

"Athene, I'm heading out. Have a nice night, alright?" He said, seemingly to the air.  
  
"Goodnight, David. See you tomorrow."

  
He'd of slipped into a khaki coloured trench. Tailored for him, of course. Detroit had a habit of tearing up this time of night. He wasn't going home this time. He had to check on Adam.  
  
Having him out of the office had been... vaguely melancholy. Sarif had gone to drop a few gifts off on his desk over the last couple weeks but found that it wasn't quite enough to satiate him. He truly felt- empty. Like this was some kind of failure.  
  
But he wouldn't wait for that to fester. He'd of loosened his tie as he stepped out into the drizzle, pacing deliberately to the Chiron complex, up to his man's unit and rapped on the door with his synthetic knuckle.  
  
He looked at his own feet, stomping gently to get off the last of the rain. He cleared his throat. Part of him was worried about him. The other knew he was just fine. He knew. Right?

=*=

for all the writhing outside of his  
windows doors hands heart  
he can’t seem to drag himself from how black his augs are.  
  
how dark. the way they catch the overhead light and he fixates fixates focuses and tries to imagine how his arms looked before. how the skin stretched over bone and curled heavy and tight and thrummed thick with blood.  
  
he makes a soft noise and closes his eyes, bringing the heels of his palms up to press into them. he sees stars. dotted white and rippling, throbbing and moving in times with the cold _clock clock clock_ of his heart. spun pretty, woven with materials he couldn’t even name off the top of his head.  
  
Detroit called to him; missed him.  
curled in his absence, rapped at his door and asked and asked and asked  
  
and asked  
and asked  
  
and Adam can’t open his eyes. can’t. won’t. does. he sees leather. face nestled into the couch and he’s not even in his bed today. he’s not even been in his kitchen today. hasn’t eaten. too heavy. too heavy.  
  
he broke his bathroom mirror.  
he didn’t know how he was going to explain that to the complex, to Sarif.  
  
How do you tell people, strangers, that your body is fiction and you can’t read it anymore; the words are wrapped and warped and he can’t keep turning to complete sentences and everything is foreign and the diction is wrong and Adam. Adam. can’t look at the skin that dips down into the seams into aug and he doesn’t want to touch alloy to flesh and he doesn’t  
  
want to realize the difference. organic in movement, but thrumming. alive. aware.

He stops, breathes.  
Pulls in hard, exhales sharp. maybe he could sleep tonight; he’s been up since four this morning in a droning state of tongue and teeth, taut and tucked tight to heart. hah, it wasn’t even a heart anymore. the creature stretched and yawned and felt no different than before but he _knows_ it’s there he knows it’s different and --  
  
There’s a rapping at the door again - he lifts his head.  
Pauses.  
Lingers.  
  
Drags himself from off the couch and ghosts heavy to the door, slowly pulling it open and he’s not surprised to find Sarif staring back at him. _The million dollar man_ , coworkers like to call him. Detroit’s savior. Adam considers David may be his too.  
  
He teethes at the thought, tasting...

=*=

As the door parted, he'd look up quickly, hands curling over his hips. 

He shifts his weight, direction uncertain. "Hey there, son..." He rumbles thoughtfully. Adam looked- how would he describe him? Haggard? Lost? David thought he seemed lost. Like a river you heard but couldn't see through the fog, he wondered what had been driving the man recently. Was he lost in the Eerie fog, too?  
  
He can almost see the cigarette smoke ghost the ceiling in the amber light behind him.  
  
"It's me- I. Well, sorry for bothering you on sick leave but they, uh-" David takes a breath. Out of his element. Not quite in, not quite out. The middle was something he had little experience in and the hallway was feeling too much like limbo for his liking.  
  
"Yeah- they said I should check on you. Make sure everything's coming together alright." He makes a face, half-lying.  
  
He found himself looking down between them and scans his eyes back up Adam's form. Clothed or not, he knew what he'd see and-  
  
Well. Seeing him whole again was a bit of a success. His expression flickers after his pause and his arms drop from his sides.

While Adam seemed whole at first glance, sometimes the missing pieces that broke the frame were below the surface. Behind the projection. Sarif was familiar with the concept. Over a lifetime ago.  
  
He had to be sure Adam was whole. The space he occupied in the doorway was abstract. Gorgeous. Complete. But maybe he wasn't 'better' quite yet. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at him and shifted his weight.  
  
"Can I come in?" He asks. The way he reached to unbutton his breast was a good indication that this wasn't exactly a request.

 

=*=

Ah.  
another person being told to come see him.  
check on him.  
baby sit.  
  
Malik had been over earlier and picked up the shards of glass from the bathroom floor before she left. he was thankful she didn’t say anything. thankful she didn’t ask.   
  
“Yeah,” Adam drones back, slowly stepping aside and letting him in when prompted. He didn’t think he could say no anyways - didn’t Sarif technically own more than sixty percent of him now? Adam thinks that may if he were to quit his job they’d take the augs back too. strip him bare.  
  
Here, Adam, we’re here now.  
  
He closes the door softly after David walks in and stalks past him, down the stairs and into the living room, passing through the swirling cigarette smoke to take his place on the couch again. tucked to the left, reaching forward and gently cradling the glass of water in his palm.  
  
he had broken a few yesterday, again. keeps forgetting he can’t clutch as hard. that glass breaks with ease. shatters. the one under his fist barely put up a fight today.  
  
he had watched it shatter with a pop, blankly. a testament to his strength. to the god that had crafted him, bolted him back together. soldered sweet. with love.  
  
“Did you need something?” Adam’s voice rumbles low, turning his head to glance back over at Sarif. He couldn’t figure out why David had more or less invited himself in - it’s not like Adam had the means to entertain. the energy. he was recovering.  
  
well, that was a lie.

he was dealing. trying to adapt. Everything kept trying to start but the engine rarely turned over. It just sputtered. wheezes. and he’d try again. again. it would rattle when he touched his stomach, hips.  
  
laying in bed at night and feeling. feeling. forced to acclimate.  
  
It’s not that he didn’t care for Sarif, but he didn’t exactly know what the man could do for him at this point. He had sewn together a new body, outfitted him for greatness.  
  
Adam feels hollow, cold.  
unwanted.  
isolated.  
  
isolated.  
  
He says nothing more, waiting for an answer.

 

=*=

 

As the apartment was granted, he stepped inside, and stepped out of his coat. He hung it at the hook by the door, next to whatever Adam kept here. He turned to give Adam an encouraging smile before he'd go to look over his vassalage. His kingdom, really. It had best be suitable for Adam and he had a mental list ready for anything that needed to be changed.  
  
But he wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for.  
  
He had a stately presence that swept along with him as he charted his way through the open space of the apartment. It sailed and washed behind his feet, as if he was disturbing the low-lying energy of this place and- like a sleepy creature disturbed, it would half-heartedly swipe at his feet before going back to rest.  
  
David stops by the nearest window to Detroit. He was enchanted by the view, as he usually was.  
  
"Do you like it here?" He asks, in a much quieter way than usual. Like the black burn of Adam's space left a charcoal mark on his mood. No less forward-looking or productive, but perhaps layered over with smoky glass.  
  
Detroit looked different from Adam's window.  
  
He crossed his arms and looks down at the floor. Almost as though looking for fault in it. It was fine.

Back up at Adam. His brows curve and he looks benignant at the small space he took up on the sofa. Did he... need something?  He sighs heavy through his nose, head tilting sideways as he parsed his words.  
  
"No. No.." He breathes again and presided himself closer. "Truth is, Adam- I was starting to worry about you."  
  
He keeps a level gaze on Adam and says it to him. Not so much the air. He even makes himself sit down, daring to be closer. Get a better look at him. Adam was normally so much more... Present. Elegant.  
  
The curve of his spine wasn't so proud tonight. Sarif noticed. Lions like him were always aware of other powerful creatures in their territory.  
  
"I just thought maybe you needed- I don't know- someone to remember you. You've fallen off the grid, Adam- I was worried. I was." He splays his hands in his lap. One natural and one less-so.  
  
"Tell me. How are you holding up?" He furrows his brows. Open him up, come on. Sarif had mastered people, he was sure he could find the right trail through Adam's fog of war. Find what he needed to fill in those invisible pieces.

=*=

“It’s quiet.”  
  
his answer is stubborn; so far from the concept of liking it and yet so close to preferring it. he can hardly touch upon a memory from before the attack; clawing at them, only to wisp through the smoke. nothing solid. nothing solid.  
  
Adam was afraid if he walked any further into the storm than he’d fall through the floor.  
  
A flash of Megan’s name and he startles at himself narrowing his eyes at the cup of water and he resists the urge to squeeze. let it crumble against his palm. let it dig into the polycarbonate. alloy and aching. accusing.  
  
The room feels heavy; David moves through the weight as if he was born for this, as if he was born to part through the smoke and fog and curl his hands around the smog and beacon gold. flashing. flashing. warbled through the haze. something smiling in the distance.  
  
Adam kept on course for cliffside, the ocean easing under him.  
  
“Worry about me…” his tone betrays any surprise he may have been trying to hold onto, why? Why would David Sarif be so worried about him? About a project? Put together and strung out, butchering bathroom mirrors and killing kitchen glasses. curbing cravings through avoiding concrete ideas, keeping himself foggy.  
  
low lighting and liquor. ringed on glass, on wood. spilled twice on the floor, the edges of forgotten under the couch.

Adam’s shoulders droop.  
Neck hung over as he’s crunched up on the corner - he tries to look relaxed but it fails. it fails. he narrows his eyes distantly; “Malik already comes over.” Forgotten? Possibly. Maybe he preferred it that way. Faridah already came to check on him, and he always suspected she was here on Sarif’s wishes. not of her own. made even more suspicious with his presence after the broken mirror. he hates to think like that, or her like that. he should probably stop.  
  
How are you holding up?  
  
His irritation bites, “terrible.” He shouldn’t have even answered, should have just shrugged and kept his head to himself. He didn’t want to get into discussion right now; his words were too tired and he had no energy to steer the ship. It all kept slipping in the salt water - his lungs ached with snarl he wished he could give.

=*=

Sarif shifts in his seat near him. Couldn't keep himself outside. Middling concern.  
  
"Of course-!" He answers, brows furrowing but not angry, when Adam gave him a textbook defiant response. He could already feel Adam's energy sheaf. So, he was right. Something wasn't right.  
  
"Ah-" David's energy settles into a pool at the mention of Malik. It's not long before he ripples again. He didn't know Malik came to visit. He supposed that was a good thing.  
  
'Terrible.'  
  
Sarif stares at him, bewildered. It was as though he was an actor who's scene partner fed him something that wasn't on the script.  
  
How to continue the scene? Improvise?  
  
His eyes, though still on Adam, were not still. "Adam-.." His tone disapproving.

"Don't tell me you're- ah.." He breathes in. "Look I-.. I'm real sorry about this whole thing. There's gotta be something else I can-?" He wasn't sure. He could almost feel himself panic at the prospect of a problem unfixable.  
  
"Is it painful?" He leans his head in, brows raising. Maybe that was all it was. Just pain.  
  
"I can call the doc, get you something else for that?"  
  
He keeps trying. Doesn't want to venture down the trail running even deeper into the fog. Maybe he'd find those hidden pieces in the wet grass right here before he was really lost in this phantasmagoria of silhouettes and cataclysms.  
  
Adam was burning a hole in the couch next to him. Sarif wanted to cool him down but he was never any good at putting out fires. Really- just starting them.  
  
"Tell me what you need. I can fix it."

=*=

Adam watches David’s expressions jarr in startle.  
As if he expected Adam to answer something different?  
  
Was he supposed to be happy like this? Was he supposed to be okay with the fact that his body was pulled apart and put back together? polycarbonate dominated his skin and mastered his lungs his heart his ribs and bones and he felt - deadened. Adam couldn’t teeth the life from himself anymore.  
  
David says his name - as if he’s disappointed.  
Something hot waves through Adam’s gut, salted and his mouth is dry with the sudden swell of emotion that surged forth upon it. He frowns, pulling his leg closer to his chest and listening to it decompress with the movement. mechanical.  
  
missing.  
  
“It’s not painful,” his lips curl a bit as he turns his eyes to look at him - he thinks he may do a terrible fucking job of hiding the irritation that lingers there. The sentinel took care of pain; anything he ever felt was brief enough to jolt him before dissipating in the sea of cold that held him after any sort of injury.  
  
Adam doesn’t want to be found.  
He wants to shirk whatever plans David had for building him back up and live in the fog; dense and blanketed. He wants to creep through the slums of detroit and threaten trash cans and graffiti with jagged teeth; belly low through the trash and unapproachable.  
  
ugly and gnarled, claws to concrete to dirt to grass and he’s  
  
eating.  
eating.  
  
swallowing glass; it groans as he squeezes it in his hand, pressing himself further back into the couch. “You can’t fix it,” Adam finds the words come out from his mouth before he can stop them, “Stop trying. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” Trying to convince himself. curling in the words and trying to wrap himself in their warmth.  
  
they tear under his weight.

=*=

 

Sarif could tell he was irritated, yes. Adam's behaviour was his chosen system. He was connecting himself to the clicks and crumbles, whirring and- worrying.  
  
Damnit. He looks down at the floor. Not pain. Not pain that drugs can fix. He knew Adam was in pain and the thought scared him because he didn't know how to fix it without drugs.  
  
He makes a thoughtful rumble in his throat. He begins to feel unwelcome. That wouldn't fly. Words he hated to hear clipped at his ankles and his attention is back on Adam. 'You can't fix it.'  
  
"I can." He argues.  
  
Words he hated even more. 'Stop trying'  
  
"Adam-!" His voice rose with his hackles and he quickly corrects himself. "Damnit-- I can."  
  
He scooched himself closer, daring. Adam's posture struck a chord with him. He occupied a space that screamed for protection and it made Sarif angry. Something insistent and anxious.  
  
As Adam spoke, he got the impression of a man drowning. Though Adam was right in front of him, he felt a similar panic somewhere in the unfamiliar parts of his brain.  
  
"I can fix it, you just gotta tell me what's wrong!" Why did he feel this sense of urgency? He wasn't content being unsure what exactly he was trying to fix, but the fog beckoned.  
  
He supposed he could start down that one. That trail. He didn't have to commit. But then, David was no quitter.  
  
"Adam." He tries one last time.

 

=*=

 

Adam winces with the first  
‘ _i can._ ’  
Adam growls soft with the second,  
‘ _i can._ ’  
  
He briefly considers scattering from the couch and back into his room when David presses closer, an abrupt heat staking through him. split-second sick - his stomach lunging into his throat as he tensed, curled tighter.  
  
‘ _you just have to tell me whats wrong_ ’  
  
Adam lifts his head to look at him in disbelief; his usual quiet facade slipping for a moment with a, “Are you telling me you don’t understand why I’m…” there’s a moment of clarity, and then the anger flares again, rushing in to drown all the empty spaces unfilled by augs. a racket in his ears. burning. bubbling up his throat and he can feel it pool over his lips. down his chin.  
  
and Sarif says his name again.  
firm.  
firm.  
  
like he owns it. like he knows how it’s tastes when all he’s done is teethed it. afraid to bite. afraid to snap his jaws down and tear and dirty himself with all the synthetic blood they pumped him full of and expected him to walk talk and act like a human again like they expected him to --  
  
his hand snaps around thin neck of the glass, it shatters and he doesn’t bother to flinch. he doesn’t unclaw it, squeezes tight and he can feel the grit of the glass in his teeth.  
  
leave.  
leave.  
leave before he strikes again and  
  
Adam is swinging himself from the couch, heels clicking against the hardwood heavily.

  
he says nothing;  
only curls his lip up, a threat for any sign of future approach. his shoulders are crunched together, head low and he’s visibly heavy. the stale smoke of hours dead cigarettes curls around him; halos his frame. hazed silver,  
  
glazed gold.

 

=*=

 

Sarif returns the eye contact. He immediately knows he's made a mistake and feels a pang of anxiety. Something he could ordinarily grab with ease and pin back under heel.  
  
'-why I'm...'  
  
And Adam burned that space he was threatening earlier. With a sickening crack followed immediately by the crunch of glass.  
  
Sarif was struck with surprise- disbelief. It shook him awake and now his head was trying to catch up with the stress. What to say- how to move?  
  
He was forced to act on instinct- stimulation of the senses. In the brief moment in which Adam allowed the broken glass to settle in his curled fist, Sarif stared at it. He finally knows why.  
  
Adam was aflame- standing up quickly and swirling with dark energy. Sarif can barely begin to- What do I say, where do I move?  
  
"Oh, Adam..." Quieter now. He's consciously trying to move slowly. Danger was nearby.  
  
He keeps his eyes down as he straightens himself and moves to stand. He looks at the shards of glass on the floor, scattered and broken around Adam's synthetic footing.  
  
Yes. He finally knows why.  
  
He felt the unfamiliar burn of guilt. Making decisions for other people was his job. How could that come back to tell him he might just have been wrong-? He wasn't. No, he wasn't wrong. Adam would have died. He chases away the brief anxiety of imagining the man's desk permanently empty.

But he still wasn't whole.  
  
"Come on." He dares to move into the bristling, no-longer sleeping beast. He felt guilty for feeling fear. That a sick part of his mind wondered for Adam's stability. Something he himself had shattered.  
  
He's careful, but steps onto the glass and tries to grab a gentle hold of him. Around his arms and shoulders and pull him in. Make it safe again.  
  
"Come here..." He says quietly, daring to reach for the clenched hand harbouring the shards and pull insistently at the synthetic fingers, his own synthetic arm trying to wrap Adam into his chest.

 

=*=

 

he says his name again,  
quieter now.  
leaving it chewed at the corners, tattered thin.  
  
Adam pushes a shaky sigh out of his nose, lips still twitched up and his tongue curls thick behind his teeth. he can taste the metaphorical blood strung through the air. he bristles at any sort of movement, jerks when Sarif decides to lift himself from the couch and invade his space again.  
  
he recoils, slightly.  
his heel crunches a chunk of glass and he grinds it back, the noise rattling in his teeth and nestling under them. balled and barbed.  
  
Davis steps onto the glass and it adds to the feeling - it prickles tense-electric under his skin and rackets down his spine through his ribs his lungs and he’s curling his hands to claw. to strike. reach out and swipe sharp and vile. black and heavy, washing through his teeth and down his neck, catching in the dips of his collarbone and tacky down his chest.  
  
scalding.  
  
There’s a sharp snarl that dies in his throat as the hands that are on him - are, gentle. their touch sinks deep, lances raw and David is pulling him into. a. hug. ah.  
  
ah…  
  
his augs clatter for a moment as the stabilizers can’t keep up with the whirlpool of emotion that drains him weak. the anger vacates him in an exhausting rush; smoking from his fingertips and trailing thick into the air above.  
  
“I don’t…” understand.  
  
I don’t understand.  
You don’t understand.  
  
his shoulders remain tense and he’s stiff at the touch, a brief moment of confusion and vulnerability overshadowing his want to bloodlet his way into comprehension.

 

=*=

 

David breathes. "It's alright-" He answers the non-question quickly.  
  
He's still trying to pry the fingers open from around the glasses. He winces, knowing the tips of a few of his fingers were probably now bleeding. The nature of glass. So sharp you don't even know you're hurting until later.  
  
Trying to uncurl the hand took away from his desire to ensconce the man in a hug where his single arm was failing. His natural one joins it and begins to tug Adam more insistently.  
  
"I get it. I do." He tries to assure him. And himself.  
  
The dream could easily be made into a nightmare.  
  
"Come here.." He echoes, fingers finding the soft hair at Adam's neck and he gives him a thoughtful squeeze. He just wanted to wrap him tight. Stop him from hurting himself.  
  
"That's enough, now. Alright?" He keeps his hold on Adam and tries to pull. Pull him back down onto the sofa next to him and pull him in. He'd dare to press their heads together.  
  
"I want you to know somethin'. Adam. Sometimes shit happens, alright? You can scream. You can cry. But my dad always told me that sometimes hitting rock bottom is the best place to start building." He would try to give Adam's shoulders a little rock.  
  
"You might not think so right now, but you're fucking beautiful. I know- It feels like everything got taken away."  
  
He doesn't mention her by name. Doesn't mention the pieces of Adam he took away. He furrows his brows and sighs.

"I know it hurts like a bitch."  
  
He lets him go and looks him over. Dipping his head between them to meet his eyes as his hands squeeze insistently on his shoulders. Is this what you need? Is this how you move?  
  
Wherever he was, it was unfamiliar territory. Give me something to point me through the haze.

 

=*=

 

Adam only unfurls his fingers and lets the glass clatter when David is pulling him to the couch. tired. tired.  
  
too tired to even begin to try and unwrap the words from his arms. body. cogs and gaskets, casketed in alloy, flesh and everything human and synthetic. a cognitive mix of the two. turned tight. too tight.

  
he hears David’s words but doesn’t recognize them, allowing the older man to pull him down and move closer. their heads press together. Adam raises his eyes to meet his.  
  
he doesn’t respond to any of the advice; there’s digestion but no recognition.  
  
‘ _\--you’re fucking beautiful._ ”  
  
Adam snaps back, lifting his head a bit and giving him a look. a look. something akin to surprise. the statement rocks him. beautiful? _beautiful_ ? he wasn’t anything near close to such. his arms and legs screeched black bold against his skin and ports and tubes jutted out from his shoulders and neck. a creature lay dormant in his chest.  
  
he looks into David’s eyes and chews on the word. it’s taste foreign. he tries to write it into his body but he can’t read it. the shape of the word is there but the letters mislead him; it’s written sharp into his thigh and just muddles bloody with the rest of them.  
  
“i..” he starts, soft, and he doesn’t know how to vocalize it.  
  
there’s surprise when he finds himself leaning into the touch, and he almost instinctively forces himself to pull away. no. no no no more hands on him no more hands. he didn’t even want _his own_ why would he have another’s on him?  
  
he.  
him.  
Adam.  
  
a sharp sputter, “this isn’t beautiful.”  
  
he says it, he actually chokes it out and it aches to physically vocalize. his voice doesn’t waver, but his resolve does.

 

=*=

 

Sarif's own eyes flicker with recognition when he finally gets his attention. Good? Bad?  
  
It was Adam's turn to look surprised and the trail is laid bare. David has to hesitate. But he believed in it.  
  
Adam was beautiful and he'd just need to convince him of what a gift to the world he was. His world. What he brought to it. He couldn't let the masterpiece be miserable among the masterwork.  
  
He felt terrible.  
  
Sarif's eyes widen. "Are you kidding me- Adam." He gives  him a gentle handling, facing him towards him and presses his hands on either side of his face.  
  
He grins, looking him over. "I'm not religious. But I've always heard that the only proof humanity has that god loves us is beauty" He pressed with one hand, urging Adam to turn his head as Sarif gives him a thorough appraisal.  
  
He couldn't keep the smile off his face.  
  
"If I can look at you and feel like I can finally understand what the fuck they're talking about, then it's got to be true."  
  
He looks down at his hands and his expression softens again. Somber.

"Look, Adam. If god created man and can make him this beautiful-- man created the machine--"  
  
He would take one of his hands in both of his own, carefully picking at the remaining shards of glass- the ones that weren't so eager to let go- cleaning his work. He turns his palm back over.  
  
"Well- maybe it's all we can make, but there's beauty in this too, Adam."  
  
He looks over the form of his hand. And Adam's. Blood and polycarbonate. What was the difference? Art imitates life and life imitates art.  
  
"Don't think this makes you anything else." He says, trying to meet his eyes- projecting- trying to make sure he was heard.

 

=*=

 

“no…?”  
his voice is small as Sarif’s hands are on him and gentle and soft and they’re both warm. one is smoother.  
  
kidding? he hasn’t been joking since he’s woken up. hasn’t been wanting to laugh since he’s sputtered up oil and blood.  
  
it catches in his teeth.  
he hates the taste.  
  
it’s been in his best interest to keep quiet, quaint. he made less noise, attracted less attention. doctors, nurses - they had all stopped coming over to check on him. It had only been Malik - until David had showed up. concerned. Adam wonders if he’s truthful about having _been_ concerned about him.  
  
the heat and tension edge from his shoulders, and then seep completely. he just. listens. he thinks that maybe if he listens hard enough then he can taste the words, claw his fingers around them and carve them into his skin and thighs. live them. love them. though the hesitation exists; walled off thick and the monster is pacing. pacing. belly grey with back alley grime and the mud is stuck to it’s thighs and legs. dog-eared and worn, fur patchy and --  
  
he calls out to it.  
it paces.  
hesitates.  
it paces.  
  
it doesn’t understand.  
i don’t understand.  
  
‘... _then it’s got to be true._ ’

he makes a noise in the back of his throat and his cheek threaten warm, but he tosses that one to the beast. keeps his stoic dignity. he can see the shapes of the words and he can vaguely make out the lettering - he looks into David’s eyes as they’re presented and he’s almost too overwhelmed by the sincerity he finds there. “i…” he begins, and doesn’t find an end. doesn’t find a middle.  
  
the words on his thighs roll down, the words on his hips roll down. the words on his wrists wrap heavy, he can feel their weight as he lets them shift further into Sarif’s touch. Adam curls his fingers gently and lets the joints roll smooth, the glass no longer inhibiting them.  
  
a little less crunched, a little less broken.  
  
All Adam can manage is a nod, the bags heavy and thick under his eyes. blackened rings - soot grey and lovingly packed. his nights have been endless - he can’t recall what’s kept him up. what’s kept him haunted.  
  
he just knows he has been.  
aimless.  
searching...

 

=*=

 

Sarif took delight in that small victory. He gives a short, amused breath through his nose before he tended to his hands.  
  
He felt Adam finally begin to uncoil under his touch and he decided he was finally getting somewhere. Maybe now that he knew a little bit more about what he was hunting for in the lake-fog.  
  
He keeps a level gaze on Adam. Hands moving to give him an encouraging squeeze on the offending forearms. He traced his features, eyes flickering this way and that. He was entirely handsome-- Sarif decided that Adam suffered majestically.  
  
But he was still lost. It was sometimes dangerous for men of such quiet anguish to be left alone too long. They say the squeaky wheel is the one that gets oiled but Sarif understood that sometimes there were problems you couldn't see or hear. Cuts from glass you didn't see until later.  
  
"Oh- Adam." He says with a sigh. "Alright." He lets him go, content to leave him with those thoughts for now.  
  
"I wish you'd of said something, son." He chides half-heartedly. "Come here."  
  
He stands, hooking a hand gingerly under Adam's arm and trying to hoist him off the couch. He'd dare to trace a hand quickly through his hair and give the nape of his neck a little squeeze and shake. Something he remembered always cheered him up over a lifetime ago.

"Listen, let's get you something to drink and have you off to bed, huh? You're getting behind on the beauty sleep there, gorgeous." He sneers playfully at him and swept his way to the kitchen.  
  
Damn kid needed some water. He paused at the threshold. More broken glass? He noticed it easily, acutely aware of it's appearance by now. He made a mental note to get someone to help him clean this up-- He... Supposed maybe he could..? Maybe he could clean this up. Get the poor kid some new standard doubles.  
  
He sighed, brushing a bag of ground coffee aside to retrieve a glass and filled it exactly three quarters of the way from the faucet. He furrowed his brows, giving the glass a small squeeze of his own to contemplate the idea.  
  
Maybe imagine the way Adam felt. Sarif felt monstrous over the thought. He then understood a little more.  
  
"Come here." He proffers the glass, holding it carefully along the bottom to give him plenty of room to take it.  
  
"I want you to try and drink as much as you can." He frowns, but tries not to.

 

=*=

 

Sarif squeezes his forearms.  
Adam is lost in some fever dream.  
  
He expected to spend the night alone expected to wallow on the couch and just turn over and watch a movie, or something. something. tv shows. the news. no, not the news. he was too tired for their nonchalant laughter in regards to murder. in regards to --  
  
David says his name again.  
Adam snatches it back, holds it close and curls his polycarbonate fingers around it and it’s synthetic and organic and it’s his completely his but there’s been so many mouths around it - no. no. he can read the shape of the word, each letter. runs his fingers over them. dog-eared. teethed.  
  
His body groans as he allows Sarif to lift him from the couch (the touch warms him. _warms_ him?), ghosting behind him to the kitchen - he refuses to acknowledge the glass from his earlier escapade, his earlier tirade of pops and shatters. scattered on tile and it had filled him pleasure to watch everything fall apart. give way. control. control. these were things he could control.  
  
control.  
  
The beast snarled when he reached out to touch it.  
Adam had let it loose into the fog.  
  
Watched it slip away, it’s tail coiling in the dew ridden grass; darkening under it’s weight and he’s left alone in the dying light. rage. rage. tall against the muted night and --  
  
‘ _gorgeous_.’

Gnarled teeth spit the noise back up and the can’t eat the heat from his cheeks; a subtle warmth but he’s sure if Sarif looked hard enough than he could see it. _hates it_ , hates it. Not even Megan fed him such compliments; she more or less brushed over him in favor of her work and --  
  
he pushes her name away. her face. startles abrupt as Sarif presses a glass of water into his hand and he just stares at it dumbfounded. unsure of how they’ve spiraled to this point - when had Sarif become so paternal? so worried about him that he had to chide Adam to drink _water_ , of all things, and get _sleep_ ?  
  
the latter would be impossible, he thinks, but he says nothing. stares at the water for a moment more, and takes a small drink. unable to meet Sarif’s eyes, his own to the floor. Contemplating. Comprehension. He can taste nothing in it’s blood.

 

=*=

 

Sarif was contemplating across from him too.  
  
Watches to make sure Adam drinks but also to comprehend him. Finding new meaning in his every movement, he wanted to learn what to say and how to move.  
  
He grins reassuringly but he's not so sure.  
  
"I want you to take care of yourself." He rumbles. "We- well- I need you... I want you to feel better, kid." He rubs a hand quickly over his face and frowns. Hands on his hips he gives Adam an expectant look-over. He pauses.  
  
"Alright." He chirps, finally; extends an arm to curl around Adam's midsection, urging him to turn with him as he ushers him toward the bedroom.  
  
"You might not want to but I can tell you're fatigued." He was already planning his method of egressing the apartment. Put Adam in bed, close the door, clean the glass, lock the door, leave the apartment, go home.  
  
And get Adam some more glasses.  
  
He'd nudge him insistently into the bedroom and, seeing what a wreck it was, paused, brows knitting once more with concern. He wanted to make a disappointed noise but stopped himself. He learned not to do that earlier.  
  
"Ah, jeez. Lemme-- Hang on." He reaches out to fix the sheet, tugging a corner down, kneeling slightly to tuck it in place. A sort of blunt snap under his shoe caused him to start and he stood again.

More glass- Actually. Mirror glass. He automatically scans for more of it and stopped himself from worrying that Adam may step on it- he forgot that wouldn't necessarily be a problem. Not. Physically anyway.  
  
He sees the faint- small pieces on the floor leading to the source, propped up against the wall on the floor.  
  
A very honestly broken mirror.  
A very heartfelt, sincerely broken mirror.  
  
He knew it didn't fall. The cracks were radial and outspread. His heart broke slightly to match. By this point, he could guess why Adam felt like it's destruction was necessary. He understood. But it wouldn't do. How could he turn this around? He supposed he could take this away too- make sure he got a new one.  
  
"Adam.." He reaches for it, by its corner and carefully lifts, turning it counter-clockwise and lengthways.  
  
"Come here. It's alright, come here." He proffers his hands like he did earlier and reaches for his face. His synthetic fingers would gently go for his jaw while his others would try to urge him closer, tugging him emphatically nearer himself.  
  
There was a lot of damage here that needed fixing, Sarif realizes. He was angry- not at Adam- and he couldn't be angry at himself- but the spirit of fury ghosted his spine.

  
"Listen to me, Adam." He gives his jaw a little shake- a squeeze.  "What do I gotta say to get this nonsense to stop?" He stares at him pointedly, brows raised. By god, if he had to give him a pythagorean rundown of his every facet and allure and feature then he would.

 

=*=

 

‘ _i want you to feel better_ ’  
  
Adam sips at least half the glass before setting it aside, unharmed near the kitchen sink. Sarif is on again, and Adam can barely keep up with the words. He can’t catch them in time -- too much in his hands, on his wrist. snaking up his arms and coiling snug around his chest.  
  
he-  
  
maybe. sleep did sound okay. maybe he could tonight. he trudges heavy through the fog and into his room at Sarif’s urging. at gentle paws at his heels. swiping. claws skittering across hardwood. Adam can hear them. he doesn’t acknowledge it’s presence.  
  
It’s chasing him, he thinks -  
no, there’s no urgency.  
It’s stalking him, he thinks.  
  
rounding corners and peering out, eyes slatted and thin. curious. head tilted and it’s teeth pulled from behind it’s lips, a mock smile. something amused. not inherently vicious.  
  
he finally makes eye contact.  
but quickly turns them forward through the fog.  
  
The ping of shame pinballs down his spine as he watches Sarif fix the corner of his bed - it kept sliding up? what did he expect him to do? He could only fix it so many times before it just got maddening. frustrating. he was half tempted to tear the corner with his nanoblade earlier when it had popped out - he’s almost glad he didn’t -  
  
because the broken mirror is fucking embarrassing enough. he meets Sarif’s eyes for a split moment and then can’t look at him. can’t fucking look at him and the heat is biting in his chest, collarbone. neck. angry. embarrassed. suddenly angry that Sarif is in here and judging him because he can’t _look at his body_ anymore, how does he even say it? how does he even tell his Boss that he’s so ashamed of it that --  
  
‘ _Come here. It’s alright, come here._ ’

Adam tenses, breathes sharp at the hands on him and wants to bristle again. wants to. he can’t seem to find the teeth, the time. the terror. he’s just. exhausted. sad? no. maybe not sad.  
  
he says his name again.  
Sarif shakes his face a bit and Adam can’t look, he can’t. His eyes flicker over and down his own body at the question. “I’ll be fine,” he manages, husky and terse. he fixates. focuses. on everything foreign. everything segmented. tired. rolling. ball joints and ballistics. barred. blackened.  
  
burned.

 

=*=

 

Sarif gets his answer, but it was abstract. His expression flickers and he tilts his head to try and catch Adam's eyes when he looks away.  
  
He feels a spike of compassionate irritation with him every time he'd subtly turn his face away when he chased him. He narrows his eyes and makes a rumbling sound at the back of his throat.  
  
He tightens his grip on Adam and turns him again- this time to face the mirror. He arranges their feet- stands behind him- arranges his hand on his jaw and- this time, for his own good, forces him to look in the mirror.  
  
"You are, because I'm gonna make sure you understand that nothing about you has changed."  
  
He meets Adam's eyes through his reflection from over his shoulder and makes the moment last before his eyes flicker over his features instead. His fingers press and nudge his head, this way and that.  
  
"You are one of the most handsome fuckin' creatures I've ever seen. Come on, look." He tilts his head as if to appreciate from another angle.  
  
Sarif's lips curl fondly. "An angel, Adam. Do you really think that changed?" He turns to look at him out of the mirror, tracing the shape of his cheek.  
  
"Angels can lose the wings but- You know- I read that the countenance is the portrait of the soul. You got it, Adam. You hear me?"

He pulls him against his chest in another hug and nudges him with his nead.  
  
"That- doesn't change. You're still our Adam." He lets his hand leave his jaw and it curls over his shoulder instead. He watches him expectantly. Appreciate yourself, you bastard. What do I gotta do? He hooks his other arm under and around Adam's, fingers hooking to his shoulder and he rests his chin contemplatively on it.  
  
He's looking at Adam through the sharded reflection again. He breathes once through his nose and gives him a little shake.  
  
"A work of art, Adam. You'd make Michaelangelo blush to carve you out of the marble."

 

=*=

 

Adam is.  
Forced to look at himself.  
  
David won’t let him escape - even if he feels the need to gnaw his own arm off and shove himself into the corner, like an animal burned too many times. presented with it’s once-again fate. escape. escape.  
  
he listens.  
he stares.  
  
fragmented and shattered. a piece hangs precariously. his eyes jump from segment.  
  
to segment.  
to segment.  
  
he can see the beast at his feet, muddled from the fog. head at his shin. it’s eyes are hollow; a flash of gold and it’s lips are curled up. glasgow grinning; the skin sloughed and split. pretty. sewn back together and hashed into some semblance of a creature.  
  
had you been human before?  
  
he meets Sarif’s eyes in the mirror and his cheeks are pink, pinker at the compliments. that gentle touching, the blatant affection. he looks back to the floor. the creature is gone.  
  
back to himself.  
the creature is there.  
  
haloed angelic in the haze, gold and rimmed silver. creeping lovingly through the seams of his augs, humming. droning. veined. winged in some type of muffled royalty, he could feel them feathering apart. slow. slow. drifting. waterlogged.  
  
a peace hangs precariously.  
  
he can see the fur curled under the bed, belly low and it’s teeth to the ground. it watches. dead. eyes sickly and skulled. rattling as it trembles.  
  
Adam turns in Sarif’s arms abruptly and wraps his own around him, suddenly overcome with the need for touch. for that affection. for those words. spun so clear around him, affixed into skin into aug and seeped into seams and - one arm around his waist and the other hooks under one of Sarifs’, head finding it’s way to bury against his shoulder.  
  
pulling in a sharp breath, releasing it as a shaky sigh. He thinks to say something but nothing comes out; he just tightens his hold and presses flush against the older man. seeking. seeking.  
  
the heat radiating through his chest, stomach, hips, head.

 

=*=

 

Sarif couldn't do any more, he didn't think. He could do this all night, feel drained, and grasp for anything else but- he couldn't think of it. He'd put everything he had into this and if it wasn't enough, well-  
  
He'd be undone, really.  
  
He stares at Adam and, as the seconds drag, his brow begins to curl with uncertainty. Please believe me.  
  
His expression passes into a soft surprise when Adam turned suddenly- into him. Oh, god.  
  
He doesn't let up the embrace, but he stares blankly ahead, processing what he could call a victory. Did he figure out what to say? He can't help but grin self-consciously and press a hand to the back of Adam's head again, fingers curling in his hair.  
  
"There we go." He croons, feeling himself bubbling with contentment at the simple thing. If Adam said he'd be fine one more time, maybe this time he could start to believe it. He grins at their reflection when he remembers the flush on Adam's face. That was a delight. Fucking delightful. "Handsome kid." He smirks.  
  
He tucks Adam's head into his neck and gives him a sway, letting the moment last and drive the point through his thick skull.  
  
He keeps his grip on Adam on takes a careful step around his legs, moving him to the near corner of the bed. He turns them and uses the hug as a steering mechanism to get him to sit on it. He pushes, trying to get him to lay down, hovering over him- almost doesn't want to let go quite yet either. He hums.  
  
He furrows his brows and, as he pulls himself away, dares to kiss him under his eye- Drags a hand through Adam's hair, thumb brushing his temple and pausing. He lingers- making that moment last too.

 

=*=

 

the touch is returned and Adam  
can feel it radiate. scatter. in his teeth  
  
his neck his tongue his throat.  
  
an aching breath. he’s. he wants to live in this. he wants to hold tight to this feeling for other days and Adam is. vulnerable. glass sloughing off and hitting the ground as he further feathers open. it rings silent. but he can hear it.  
  
feel it.  
  
the raw muscle exposed, sugar-sweet crust crumbling in resolve. it sticks to his clothing and aches and burns but he’s alive, he’s alive and it means he’s here and living and his augs whirr and hum with the realization. with the rationalization.  
  
‘ _there we go._ ’  
  
the reassurance.  
  
and then Sarif is moving them to the bed, moving Adam to sit down on the edge and he allows it. he does. he expects to feel the paws of the creature beneath him to swipe but he - no. nothing. he doesn’t even hear the noise of it skittering away, though he thinks it may have. thinks Sarif may have frightened it away. or maybe he did. he doesn’t know -  
  
the small kiss under his eye scatters the thought completely and he startles at the motion. narrowing his eyes in thought - what thought? there’s no thought. it just is. let it be. let it linger.

Adam wraps an arm around David and pulls him down into another hug as he gives in and finally stops fighting; he buries his head against his shoulder because he doesn’t want the creature to hear. doesn’t want it to creep back in the room and glower in anger, waiting. waiting for him to be alone again so it can chew out his jugular.  
  
“thank you,” muttered low and hot against his ear, words that clattered hard against his tongue, forced through his teeth. He’s not used to this. not used to being painted as something more than machine, more than human. the words bottom out hot in his stomach and he thinks maybe, he can be better. the doubt exists, but he wants to chase the fever dream, further from the fog. from the sick eyes that forbode. forget. fatigued black.  
  
black.  
black.  
  
Adam listens for it’s return.  
he hears nothing.

 

=*=

 

Sarif had never truly been aware of the presence lingering in the back of Adam's psyche. He existed on a canopy of sorts, where creatures called doubt, fear and loathing usually couldn't quite get a grip on the branches.  
  
But he could discern that his Adam needed a hand.  
  
He's sighing, feeling for the unraveling under him. Not quite certain yet what he's looking for, but he's confident he'll know when he finds it.  
  
He's burying his head into Adam's neck at the small 'thank you' and his hands slide out from under him. They hook gently to his ribs, natural one sliding up- exploratory, to feel Adam's shoulder- arm. He simply loves the feel. Smooth with some catch- and artful. It was a good match.  
  
David feels Adam's neck carefully with his lips, dark eyes closing as he's utterly enraptured. He hums thoughtfully. He can't quite tell if it's Adam or Adam and his art together that spurs him. They might have always been the same thing?  
  
He definitely couldn't imagine anyone else to be the recipient of his... art- attention. Both. Was he in love? Probably.  
  
"I can show you...?" He mutters. Ok, yes. Adam is still hugging him and he wonders if he needed the connection- something tangible. Groping around in an apartment filled with shadows and illusory beasts would put value on the graspable. That, if anything, he understood at least.  
  
Let me show you that you're wanted. So wanted.  
  
He lifts himself slightly, to give Adam a look entirely inquisitive.

 

=*=

 

David’s head is in his neck and he feels as if he’s  
teetering;  
below, he thinks the creature waits.  
mouth open -  
above, there are hands running up his ribs. exploring. touching. they’re touching him. his skin crawls in the slightest, but nothing akin to recent feelings, recent attacks.  
  
it doesn’t startle him much -  
what does though is the feeling of Sarif’s lips on his neck. mapping. touching his pulse. the room shifts darker, suddenly. clouded. Adam knits his brows together and he can’t figure out the feeling. mouth dry.  
  
paralyzed, but fully lucid.  
he’s not been used to this much attention; the only thing at his neck he’s grown accustomed to is that rough tongue and muddled eyes, teeth a little too close to his jugular for comfort. it has licked patches raw. Adam wonders where it’s gone to, now.  
  
‘ _I can show you…?_ ’  
  
Adam doesn’t know why, but he nods. he nods before he can really register what he’s doing, and he swallows tight. thinks there’s something in his throat.  
  
there’s nothing in your throat.  
  
he closes his eyes, he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands. he doesn’t know where to put them - he touches Sarif. laying hands on David. gentle. a little awkward, out of place. Adam finally settles on dropping one to the bed to rub his fingers against his own sheets, a strange comfort in the moment - something grounding. the other he keeps on Sarif, keeps interested.  
  
keeps -  
what?  
again?

He doesn’t understand why Sarif would want to touch him - _the_ David Sarif. The man that could seek out anyone, have anybody. He had money, he had confidence and Adam -  well. He lacked...a lot. He knew that. He had lost Megan far before her death and he had lost part of himself too, with it. She didn’t pay him much attention, if any at all. She let him linger, let him skim that beast when it had fur, when it had life. when it curled up at his feet and gurgled obediently.  
  
When the skull wasn’t exposed, wasn’t singed and burned and -  
  
“Yes,” he vocalizes soft, unable to bring himself to look directly at Sarif, instead keeping his eyes trained on whatever other body part came in his field of vision first. He’d give it a chance - he didn’t have much to lose.  
  
Except your throat - it smiles from around the corner, eyes hollowed black. wild.

 

=*=

 

He almost, _almost_ can't believe himself; could have convinced himself this was all a dream.  
  
Really? He'd followed the misty trail all the way to Adam and, having stepped on a fault line- was directed exactly to where he thought this wouldn't go.  
  
Alright. What'll be your pleasure, sir.  
  
He clamps over Adam's wrists and uses them as an anchor to hoist himself further over him; up and onto the bed. He finishes the quickish movement with a kiss into the side of Adam's neck. He grins, pulling away just an inch or two to connect their foreheads.  
  
Sarif smells the whiskey.  
Adam might smell the cedar and juniper.  
  
-And he's dragging Adam's hands overhead, not content to let him be aimless. He was here to give him purpose. And... For now- his purpose would be to enjoy.  
  
He connects them, passes one into the other, letting his prosthetic hand take them over by the wrists while the warmer of the two slid down- catching on Adam's shoulder before sliding down to his neck and jaw.  
  
David turns his head to connect their mouths. He doesn't expect Adam to return this. That's fine.  
  
He rests his hand over his neck- though it's far from a threat. He almost... pets him. Careful as his fingers pass over bandage or reddened skin.

"Good boy." He rumbles. Curling his fingers in favour of feeling the same things with the tops of them instead. He'd given Adam a few inches between them, but he was watching him attentively.  
  
Sarif wasn't shy about making it obvious- near hovering as he looks for everything. Anything. He only looks away to give Adam's front an appraisal, knuckles pressing into his skin, index passing over a nipple.  
  
Then his eyes are back on Adam. "Do you keep anything in the bedroom?" He grins, letting Adam's wrists go as he slides away, reaching vaguely toward the nightstand as if waiting for the confirmation or a direction in the right course.  
  
His free hand moves up to curl a finger between his collar and neck and pull, just an inch or so of loosening the tie. He kinda needed the flexibility.

 

=*=

 

Adam startles only slightly as Sarif hauls himself up,  
blinking once at the closeness and then  
twice at the lips to the side of his neck.  
  
his wrists are shifted and moved and pinned above his head and he - lets him. he lets David touch him and he rolls the joints, making a mental note of where each finger touches and the warmer one is rolling down and it’s polycarbonate in alloy in machine against man and Adam fights the urge to flick the glasses forward.  
  
fights the urge to cover himself, to sink back into skin into aug and hide there. deflect. they hum. he almost does.  
  
but the idea of David leaving right now - why does that bother him so much?  
  
the creature lingers, watching.  
he thinks  
he sees a shadow; he doesn’t know what the static has taken now.  
  
Sarif touches their foreheads and Adam fights the urge to flush hot - the moment is tender and he’s not used to something so tangible, so here and aware alive and he could sink his teeth into it and lock his jaw and taste it all. he allows his eyes to shift, look directly into his and he’s wondering why Sarif is here. wondering why Sarif is in bed with him and how this all started and the sheets are ruffled and disorganized and his legs part just a little more relaxed and  
  
the warmth of a hand is on his jaw and turning his head and there’s lips pressed to his and in the moment he doesn’t trust himself to return it. he thinks that maybe he’s adapted, maybe he’s a slurry of fur and teeth and bone and maybe he deserves to be birthed to the trees.  
  
warm hands, warm hands; renaissance and golden - crafted jawlines and storybook odysseys. condemned to the life of straight lines. no matter the sea, no matter the mountain, the snow; he will push. and push. that’s what he was built for, right?  
  
_Prove me wrong._

the thoughts wither at the hand stroking his neck and he thinks that maybe Sarif can feel the curl of heat under the words ‘ _Good Boy_ ’. Ah. Ah - he shivers as it explores, passes a nipple and he bites back a silent noise. something riddled, unexpected but possibly hued with pleasure. possibly.  
  
He’d need ah, more of that to...know.  
  
Then Sarif speaks to him with a grin and Adam just looks at him for a moment, gently twisting his hands and concentrating on the smooth roll of his wrist, “Top drawer, to the right.” He thinks that his voice sounds distant, like it’s waterlogged and muddled. it doesn’t sound familiar.  
  
he’s disconnected for the moment, out of body and his chest swells with a heavy sigh. just an act to fill the motion, something idle - though he thinks it may be half seeking, now. that warmth of that brush over something sensitive, seeking, seeking. circling. teeth tucked away, but curious.

 

=*=

 

As he slid away, his hand dips, curling under Adam's body- fingers pressing insistently up- while his extended one reaches for the drawer.  
  
As he moves, his hand passes under Adam's hip, hooking over the hem of his trousers and he's pulling them a few inches, unhooking and just holding his leg up instead.  
  
He loved the subtle change in pressure under his touch- as he passed from Adam to synthetic Adam. Gorgeous.  
  
He turns his attention away to the nightstand for a few moments, but his fingers are curling sequentially under Adam's knee- bunching the fabric there until he had a solid handful of it and he pulls- in absolutely no hurry- until he frees one of the others legs.  
  
He finds what he's looking for, holding it between two fingers as one might a cigarette and returns. He leans against the leg he'd stolen and hugs it to himself as he returns to Adam.  
  
The leg is pinned between them, raising between them as he hovers over him and reconnects his mouth to the reddened skin on his chest. He hums thoughtfully.  
  
He mumbles something into him- muffled by skin. Something like "such a handsome kid" coloured caramel.  
  
Adam had almost made some noise earlier.  
  
He lifts himself fully onto the bed again, tucking his knees against Adam's hips, shifting to hook a forearm around the other leg- lifting that too.

He grins softly at his poor Adam. He could see the misty-eyed, bleary look. But unless he made some indication to stop, he wouldn't.  
  
His eyes flicker down as his hand is tugging up the other pant-leg past Adam's raised knee.  
  
"Look at you." He says, less to Adam and himself and more of a statement. So damn pretty. Poor thing doesn't even know how pretty and that's the tragedy.  
  
He'd let the trousers fall behind him, probably sliding off the bed on their own. He doesn't displace any of his own clothes, even his gold clip kept his tie snugly in place.  
  
He turns to look at Adam's legs. Was it narcissistic to find them beautiful? He focuses on the seams and abstractly puzzle-pieced junctions of his knee. He hooks his thumb under it, other fingers pressing, sliding- his eyes follow.  
  
All the way to the demarcation at Adam's hip. Covered by his briefs and so- he tugs the hem up at first, to look. The skin was still red. It would be for a little while yet, he surmised.  
  
Then he pulls down- to get a look from the other end, sliding the band down, fighting the bed at first until he brings a knee in to carefully slide under his hips- lifting him off of it and allowing him to pull those down easier.  
  
He checks Adam's face subtly before doing the same to his other leg.

 

=*=

 

Adam isn’t familiar with what’s going on.  
Sarif is _touching_ him.  
  
If he could only properly convey how it feels to -  
  
he had always craved for Megan to touch him, in some appreciative way. Her hands had held him - to hips to shoulders to arms but they never felt appreciative. always heavy. always awkward. Like she never wanted to and she was just running through some motion, some need - he had walked away from her touch a dozen times through their relationship. the couch had become his best friend at the end.  
  
the fabric had held him better than her - the blanket warmer than anything she could provide him. the only night she ever seemed eager for him was - well. sometime close to their break up; she didn’t seem too upset when he had severed their romantic ties.  
  
he was as cold leaving as he was with her - what was the difference? the chill still bit at his bones - and had even now. wrapped around polycarbonate and rooted deep. iced over,  
  
but now splitting at the seams with hands on him searching. feeling. interested - something meaningful. Adam isn’t familiar with meaningful. isn’t familiar with a lot of things - apparently.  
  
there was a touch of realization that Sarif might teach him - would wrap him firm with some sort of meaning, some sort of purpose.  
  
there’s lips on his chest, caressing the tight, reddened skin - something muttered into it to soothe. Adam closes his eyes at the sensations and allows himself the moment to just. feel. listen. Sarif calls him handsome again and it elicits a shaky sigh.  
  
he allows Sarif undress him - keeps his eyes closed and just lingers in the feeling of vulnerability, lets him touch. touch. he can feel the fingers at his knee tracing seams and joints and Adam knows that Sarif is admiring his own work. what he’s put together, built, carved. static shrouds that feeling; he wants to say he’s unsure if Sarif is here for he or the augs but

Adam knows - and he hates to admit it.  
He wants to live in the creature’s teeth, wants to live in it’s open jaw wants to - Adam opens his eyes and he’s locked in this haze, a strange disorient. white and clouded. glancing down to look through Sarif.  
  
he makes the softest noise in his throat, something dying that he had wanted to say. he hadn’t even known _what_ had met it’s end before it even began, but being so exposed, so open - Adam parts his legs a little more and lets Sarif to look at the irritation around his augs, tight and his nails found it often. to pull. to test. to feel. to feel.  
  
the room is still for a moment before he gives a soft hum, and then finally, a quiet, “Boss,” all warmth, no bite or hesitation. bordering fond.

 

=*=

 

He had given Adam's leg an appreciative squeeze and gave him a look when he'd looked like he wanted to speak. It was barely a whisper of a noise, but it was there.  
  
He doesn't look expectant for it's culmination, instead finishes what he'd been doing- stripping him until it was just skin- synthetic or otherwise.  
  
He moves a hand to rest flat over one of Adam's bandages near his shoulder. He remembered seeing that one put on the first time. He'd caught his breath behind his teeth when he watched the scalpel excise just a little too far and there was just a little more blood than there should have been.  
  
He squeezes thoughtfully. Gently. Brows curling into just that much of a frown as his hand slid back over Adam's throat- down. His fingers splayed, tips pausing over the ports that capped off the mounts bracing his chest.  
  
Another repair. The poor kid had been torn apart. He'd make sure at least that wouldn't happen again. The way it did.  
  
His eyes flicker playful as Adam moved slightly, parting his legs; He glances up at him from under his brows.  
  
'Boss,'  
  
Sarif grins, leans forward, bracing himself over the other to bump their heads together again, before turning to give him a kiss on the ear. "Yeah." He answers what was certainly not a question. "I'm here."  
  
He's sliding off the bed right after- but his hands catch on Adam's knees and he's pulling him with him, all the way to the edge.

He reaches past him to the trinket he'd procured earlier with his aug-hand, returning it- now glazed satiny, between them.  
  
He gives Adam a look, holding his free hand out. He wiggles his fingers beckoningly, eyes signalling for him to give him his hands. If granted, he'd circle them back around his wrists and pin them overhead, using them to brace himself over Adam as he'd proceed to massage between his legs.  
  
Carefully. Of course. Damaged tissue everywhere. He would feel terrible for tearing anything; Making him bleed any more than had already been necessary.  
  
"Hm." He grunted fondly, letting his middle finger catch and push into him. His eyes traced up, down and back up, rackingly slow.  
  
His hand took it's time. Out and back in- slow- but deep. He'd add another finger soon after, eyes flickering to Adam's in search of anything he might see or hear.

 

=*=

 

Sarif looks him in the eyes when the noise dies in his throat and  
Adam relaxes, near appreciative for the given understanding. his voice is threaded somewhere, captive. cross stitched in reds and purples and it rarely struggles for escape. content, caught warm and cradling.  
  
Megan could never understand his silence - too much noise was cacophonous. nestled, clattering in his ears; his own voice thrummed heavy and hot. he could only take so much of it and past a certain point, he could no longer concentrate on the meaning. on the syntax the structure the diction and everything that came past her lips was fiction.  
  
Adam twitches at the squeeze to his leg out of reaction, and he inhales again, though not as dramatic. calming down. everything is coming down and he feels a little more here, a little more whole. Sarif’s hand finds his bandaged shoulder and the pressure stings pleasant, sends a prickling whiffling through him and the hand is over his throat and he tilts his head to bear it just the slightest more - a touch of disappointed as he travels down just a little too quick. the outline, the warmth, it lingers and he makes a mental note of it.  
  
Sarif finds the ports and Adam almost winces out of reaction - the skin around them was just as red as anywhere else; he wishes he could vocalize about how terrible they look on him. black and jutting, angry. they’ve bled a few times; that may have been his fault, though. sometimes in his sleep, Adam finds himself raking fingers down - his body not yet used to the intrusions. somethings there, somethings there.  
  
he knows.  
yes, he knows.  
  
upon a single word, he’s surprised to find David close again, answering the statement he hadn’t tried to question. a touch their foreheads together and there’s another kiss and reassurance and Adam nods, dizzy, only half focused on the scuttering he hears from under the bed. he doesn’t even have the mind to warn Sarif as he’s climbing off and

pulling him to the edge and the sudden movement startles him, pulls him back to what’s happening and he eases the tension that had hazily built up in his legs. the augs whir and hum, lulled.  
  
he gives his hands when prompted, almost a little too easily, and finds comfort in having them secured. he doesn’t have to find a place for them, doesn’t have to think about where to put them, what to touch. reined in. place given. everything is new and raw and Adam is on overload; a hand between his legs that’s not his own that’s not struggling. not cold. not aching and irritable and stiff and his teeth find his cheek as David works a finger against him, and then into him.  
  
not unpleasant, though also not something he’s used to. nothing akin to pain - but a pressure that wanted to skip stones up his spine with each in, and every out. he could feel the ridges, the joints, every catch as it would return - deep - and then pull back. thoughtfully. the heat in his cheeks is a simmer and he tilts his head back to the sensation, closing his eyes as the sensation catches in his throat and clumsily past his lips. a humming sigh, a rumble. a second added and Adam tilts a leg further outward, the burn and stretch momentarily, but craved.

 

=*=

 

And David had, in fact, taken note of what Adam liked. The slight lift of his chin and the subtle curve his brow. He'd be sure to revisit that.  
  
For now, he was poised over him, leonine and possessive;  Adam's body caught between two points.  
  
He's focused on that handsome face as his hand works. He'd added a third finger a few moments ago and leans down, still braced on Adam's wrists to put his mouth on his chest. Meanwhile he presses his hand in deeper, letting him think about it for a few moments. He tilts his hand, evidently some sort of an expert and fucks Adam shallow up to his knuckles.  
  
He hums, lips pausing as he tastes iron and copper on his chest. Blood? Or aug. Maybe it's both. He wondered if it might have been jarring to look into his own reflection- expecting the old picture but seeing something completely different.  
  
Must have been why the poor kid broke it. It _had_ been intentional.  
  
He feels for another, lingers, plants a kiss as his hand works against him. He adds his fourth finger as he'd leaned up to bury against Adam's neck. At first he's kissing that to.  
  
But he's compelled to bring out his own fangs, scraping carefully at his throat. Just a nick or two, here and there- and he'd catch the corner of his jaw. His lips would drift closer to his ear again.  
  
"God, Adam. You're beautiful." He'd mutter low- just for him. There's no creature here that needs to hear it. Just Adam.  
  
"Now I want you to make some more of those pretty noises for me, huh?" He says evenly, curling his fingers inside him slowly, putting pressure upwards and dragging softly.  
  
"More of that."

 

=*=

 

Adam feels like prey.  
Though not as he usually does - cornered by some dread, some creature with crooked eyes and jutting teeth circling too close, too close. Sarif’s eyes are sharp and aware, awake - clear and here. Poised over him like a big cat; feral. This is something he’s never seen from Sarif before, a thought that never crossed his mind.  
  
he was unaware that David, of all people, could ever think of him this way.  
  
his hips shift at a third finger added and the heat is dotting his stomach, the beginnings of his thighs. his cock rests heavy against his waist, bobbing with each pulse that runs through him and the wetness smears against his skin. there’s lips against his chest again, Adam tenses momentarily under their unexpected touch.  
  
there’s not long to think about it though - he flushes at the curl of fingers, thoughtful for a moment in pause, before they work in. deep. hard. and fuck him, shallow and firm. Adam gives him a soft whine, unable to help it. unable to bite it back any longer. rattled thick with cigarette smoke, hazed and cracking. each small push of Sarif’s fingers burns sweet and he jerks slightly with a flinch. nothing out of discomfort - he curls his fingers into his palms and feels at his own joints. a welcome distraction, even if small.  
  
the affections to his skin ease him comfortable; he’s full and - ah. Adam’s eyes were lidded, open full as he feels a fourth finger worked in. shallow at first, and then deeper on next roll. he gives Sarif another noise - a casual mix of things. a moan and a sigh, a sharp inhale. he was already settled on the weight of three and now he’s being parted on four, held open and far more exposed than he’s used to.

his feet arch and his toes curl tight, eyes shut and furrowing at the sudden intrusion. there’s teeth at his neck and he can feel his own hackles raise, momentarily considering the threat, before backing down. he fists his hands and squeezes, body tense for a moment as it adjusts to all new sensations. he almost forgets where he is, cheeks hot as Sarif mutters how fucking beautiful he is against his ear. the words sink deep, live in a flurried ache under his collarbone. needled thick against his pulse.  
  
Ah.  
  
He rolls his head to the side and opens his eyes, caught in the fever-dream, and sees it staring. head tilted inquisitively. as if it hadn’t heard, was straining to hear. it’s eyes are hollowed and dark, dead. Adam’s fingers twitch and he makes a soft noise of pity in it’s direction. it stutters, head shaking - the bits of mottled fur stuck rotten to yellowed bone.  
  
his eyes widen the moment that Sarif opens his mouth again and all but demands he make some noise - he feels compelled to comply. he can feel those fingers stretch and search, dragging slow. slow. pressing tight and he opens his mouth and near chokes back a moan, thighs trembling with the sudden onslaught of pressure. he strokes just right and Adam’s chest swells sudden, off the bed and teeth find his lip. embarrassed, to muffle. he tightens around the pressure, unable to help it - pre drooling from the head of his dick and sticking to his hip, a hard throb in reply to the stimulation.

 

=*=

 

David looks almost pleased with himself, a half-lidded gaze from under his brows up at his 'prey' and he's keen on Adam's movement underneath him.  
  
He chuckles softly out of delight when Adam bestows a quiet whine, muffled halfway through as he kisses his neck again.  
  
He gives Adam's wrists a squeeze as he feels the joints flex, reminding him of where they were.  
  
"Good." He croons quietly into his ear, hearing the airy moan and- well, yeah, he fucking loves that- pressing the sides of their heads together. "Good boy..."  
  
Sarif had, up to this point, been previously unaware of Adam's haunted space. He would have shooed away any creature, living or dead, had he known. But his eyes weren't tuned into any horrific frequency and he wouldn't even begin to dream of ghostly apparitions harrying his ankles near the bed.  
  
Instead he- slowly loosens his grip on Adam's wrists, fingers plying over his- Adam's- arms and comes to rest light over his throat.  
  
"That's it." He whispers quiet as Adam had, likely accidentally, obeyed. He grins into the side of his neck and- Adam lifts under him and he gently fights against him by pressing down with the hand over his throat, teeth finding his ear while his other hand coaxes more out of him.

He pulls his fingers out briefly to give Adam's cock a stroke, checking it's current state and- "You're making a mess." He lulls observantly before he's sliding his hand back down, fingers slowly parting him again. "Yeah. Good boy."  
  
He lingers for a few more moments before he's pulling away again, hooking a hand carefully under Adam's thigh, another at his ankle and he's urging him over onto his belly.  
  
He wouldn't give him more than a few moments before he's pressing his weight down over him, natural hand pressing insistently- searchingly- to his back, tracing the aug there too. He hums near Adam's ear again, lips brushing, as his hand slid around, under his chest and hugs him tight.  
  
Synthetic knuckles brushed against Adam between them as David guided himself against him, distractedly slow, his attention up front, before he'd finally press into him. He'd linger another moment, before sliding against him until their hips were flush.  
  
His hand would move to Adam's hip and give it a steady pull, as if to coax him to take another inch or two before he rolls his hips. "There you go." He reassures. "Good boy."

 

=*=

 

the praise nearly sung into his ear puts every nerve on end.  
hot pokered, searing; nudging into the spaces of his spine and his teeth fit perfectly together in some gnashing wallow.  
  
Sarif presses his head to Adams and well, Adam returns the favor. grounding himself, the weight some welcomed comfort against everything else new that he’s feeling. something strangely familiar. he stutters something through his fangs and flexes his legs, the augs murmuring in response.  
  
he’s rapt at the hand over his throat suddenly, the fingers gently fluttering against the sensitive skin and a rush of vulnerability seeps through him. he’s nodding gently to the praise and the lips at his throat and he near forces himself to settle down, in time with the hand slowly easing him back to the bed. trying to smooth him over, relax him. reassure him. it’s okay. this is okay.  
  
this is okay.  
  
the fingers inside of him move and twist and he gives another rumbled noise, cacophonous against his ribs and the reverb shakes his chest. there’s teeth at his ear and suddenly the fingers are  
  
pulling out, he drops his hips suddenly with the lack of weight, the lack of heat and then they’re on his cock. his teeth find his cheek in surprise and he’s shifting his eyes to look at Sarif and then he’s _sure_ the red is visible in his cheeks at ‘ _You’re making a mess_ ’ and it prompts him to look down, at himself. his own body. flushed and leaking onto the hand wrapped around him and - fuck. the heat spears his stomach and he’s suddenly the slightest bit -

the fingers are dipping down again and he’s watching them - they’re parting him in full and he can _feel_ them. nudging against him, already slicked and open and sliding home again. each ridge and catch and Adam is dropping his head back down to the bed again, exhaling something shakily that he hadn’t known he’d been holding that entire exchange.  
  
Adam lingers in that feeling for a while longer before Sarif is urging him over, hands on him and he’s so caught in the moment that he allows it, without much hesitation. without much of a second thought. There’s hands on his hips and they’re pulling and there’s weight on him and everything is dizzying - his arms stretched out beyond him and fingers lost in the tangled sheets.  
  
there’s another roll, another catch, and another part of heat. another small noise fights from behind his teeth and he’s instinctively parting his legs, a further invitation.  more urging, more praise. the momentarily shock in size and burn eased as Sarif pulls him back and eases him against it. Adam curls his fingers tighter and everything is deeper and heavier and their hips meet flush and he’s got something caught in his throat - a strangled word, murdered past his teeth and buried in the blankets.

 

=*=

 

Sarif watches the way Adam had looked between them. The way he flushed, dropped his head back down and breathed.  
  
The pleasure here was solely in seeing him pleased. Adam had always been so taciturn- Sarif didn't realize how much of a gift the unordinary of Adam was until he heard and saw it.  
  
He hooks his natural hand over Adam's opposite shoulder, keeping his lips near to his ear for the purpose of talking to him; Adam did seem to like that. Good. Sarif was good at talking.  
  
He's agonizingly slow once he's inside him. The purpose wasn't the act itself. It was more. He intended to make him feel. Good. About himself. This.  
  
Sarif grins, fingers splaying over the half-natural hip. The half natural muscles flexing under his touch as Adam parted his legs. He hums appreciatively. "Keep those gorgeous legs spread for me, Adam." He croons, squeezing his back to his chest with a tightening hug as he moved.  
  
His other hand brushed appraisingly over Adam's thigh, palm pressing insistently after a moment to spread his leg further. He's chuckling through his nose near Adam's ear- enchanted.  
  
"God. Let me show you- how good you look." He rumbled, his grip on his front tightening, other hand sliding under Adam's waist and pulling up. Forcing him to his feet at the edge of the bed despite his ravishing.

"There you go. Stand up for me. Good." He turns him a fraction, natural hand lifting from shoulder to jaw as he urges Adam's attention to the fragmented reflection nearby. It was still serviceable. It'd get the point across.  
  
Sarif's fingers were tight on him but not fixed. He wants him to look. Wants him to want to. Go on. Be curious.  
  
He keeps their heads together, briefly looking at Adam through their reflection before simply turning his attention sideways and leaving the reflected world for just Adam to enjoy.  
  
"Broken reflection's just as beautiful, isn't it."  
  
He'd move against him- into him- and eventually let his jaw go in favour of petting down his front. The front of his throat, chest; Fingertips pressing gently into his ribs before finding his neck again.  
  
Sarif kisses his shoulder and mutters into it. "Don't you see it? Stunning. Always were- nothing's changed." He grins against the skin over his shoulder.  
  
"My handsome kid. Legs not gonna give out on you, are they?" He teases, other hand curling over a hip and snakes down between his thighs, holding him tight as he fucked him almost ponderously- dreamily.  
  
Sarif laughs quietly. "It's not fair is it?" He'd give him a break, inching him to the corner of the bed again and moves to push him back down, leaning back over him. His fingers raise, the tops of them coaxing Adam's view back to the mirror by his chin.  
  
"There's my good boy."

 

=*=

 

Sarif is dragging in and out of him, slow. slow. torture. Adam is forced to focus on the feeling, absolutely forced. After the fourth or fifth heavy, lingering thrust - Adam figures that Sarif is very _much_ doing this on purpose - that Sarif maybe isn’t so focused on the sex itself. that this isn’t exclusively for his pleasure.  
  
he swallows tight as the hands on him; he can hardly keep track. a whirlwind of connection and emotion - he’s almost sick with the heat. near tangible in his chest. flowering. blooming under expert touch.  
  
ah - they’re on his hips now and his thighs and Sarif is telling him to ‘ _keep those gorgeous legs spread_ ’ and the rush of heat gathers in his throat. chokes him up. he can’t do anything but give a small noise - a throaty gasp. quiet. just under his breath. he does. he even parts them a little more on command, the skin tense and he shivers a bit at how it pulls. nothing to encourage tearing, bleeding, but enough to drag him back to some sort of momentary consciousness.  
  
Sarif hugs Adam back to his chest and he shivers at the brush of fabric against him - a little more _here_ to realize that Sarif is still dressed. he tilts his head back into the feeling and shifts, secure. exposed. but secure, safe. That David wouldn’t let anything happen to him, wouldn’t continue if he was uncomfortable.  
  
though he, startles at the words. the sudden shift. chest swelled and back arched as he’s pulled up to stand, straining. the position pushing him deeper, and Adam allows Sarif a whine at the pleasant burn. his hands snap back to hold at Sarifs hips, steady himself.  
  
there’s warmth on his chin and he thinks it’s a hand - yes, Sarif’s hand turns his chin to the mirror he had previously shattered and Adam’s eyes jump from fragment to fragment to Sarif’s eyes to his own to his chest to his legs to his hips to Sarif so shallowly and thickly fucking him. stretched pretty around him. Adam tries to avert his eyes, overwhelmed at the side.

their heads touch and he looks again - Sarif is no longer looking but Adam combs over again. legs trembling a bit, and he can see them shudder with the strain. the hand leaves his chin and touches. strokes. curls the sensations in his chest and scatters them - pulls them back together and he is fluidity. moving. and there’s fingers at his neck again. he tilts his head to expose his throat, an offering, eyes lidded as he keeps focus on himself in the mirror, unable to meet his own eyes. his flushed cheeks.  
  
nothing’s changed?  
that’s not -  
  
he doesn’t have time to think on it, moaning velvet and low as the hand finds itself between his legs and Sarif is suddenly moving. fever-dream fucking him, hazed and honest. Adam is so enraptured in the fog that he doesn’t hear Sarif, only realizes he’s being pushed back into the bed. legs spreading, face finding the sheets but no - no. Sarif’s hand is on his chin again and directing him back to the mirror, firmly. “I…” he begins, but ends abruptly on next meeting of their hips. he’s - he thinks he’s growing close to some crescendo - his dick strokes against the fabric of the sheets on each movement and it’s enough stimulation to prickle a wave of pleasure through his hips, thighs. a familiar call, but buried past the fog. “ _Fuck_ ,” he finally finishes his earlier thought.

 

=*=

 

Sarif had been sure to feel- and watch- where Adam directed his attention. Was it working?  
  
He buried himself into Adam, above and below, fingers tracing any lines of interest. Adam's attention is on the mirror. Good. He rewards him with satiny stroking and a hum into his ear.  
  
He mutters near-silent praise into his ear the entire time. You're doing so well. What a pretty noise. What a gorgeous face. Look at you.  
  
By the time they were back on the bed and he's making him watch himself more, even Sarif thought he could probably finish- but this wasn't about him. It was an afterthought and then soon forgotten in favour of getting his Adam content.  
  
Hopefully give him some level of bliss after which David might not feel so terrible leaving him to himself again. Clear the misty trails through the apartment with a gently burning sunshine.  
  
He grins into the side of his pretty head- feeling him border the edge- Good.  "That's it." He breathes, hands sliding down Adam's arms, to his wrists, bringing them a little closer and pinning them back to the sheets.  
  
His fingers slide around those hands, puzzling neatly between gilded knuckles and squeezing fondly.  
  
"Good boy... Come for me. There you go." He croons, pressing his lips to Adam's temple, pressing the kiss keenly enough to urge that pretty head into the mattress.

He'd feel for Adam's body to come down from whatever high- linger in and on him for a few long moments more. His lips curling softly against his ear again. He almost nibbles- but it's gentler than that.  
  
Pauses; Before bumping his forehead into the side of Adam's head affectionately as he finally pulls away, his weight momentarily settled harder on Adam's wrists as he heaves himself up.  
  
He sighs, reaching into his jacket and finding a handkerchief. First he gives it a casual stroke over Adam, brushing up any oil- before he's passing it contemplatively over his hands- then each individual finger- then down. Puts himself and it away after a neat folding.  
  
He hums thoughtfully.  
  
"Now... Will ya get some rest for me?" He grins at the other, reaching out to give him a playful ruffle through his hair, stroking his fingers through it from front to back.  
  
He was already thinking about the kitchen. It's not like he couldn't lock the door on his way out. Adam could sleep while he brushed up the glass and ... well, took care of that. He'd have someone come get the broken mirror tomorrow..  
  
"Things are going to get better. You'll see. I'm not gonna let anything happen again." A vague statement. Even David wasn't quite sure what he meant when he said 'anything.' All he knew was he wanted his poor Adam to be happy. He deserved that much... But it was a tough promise to keep when even you weren't sure what _could_ happen in such tumultuous times.  
  
"Things will be okay."

 

=*=

 

Adam is drowning.  
all of the heat and the tension and Sarif’s words and his touches and it’s almost too much. almost too much and Adam just closes his eyes tight, no longer wanting to look. he wants to feel, wants to feel the drag of David in and out of him and each time their hips meet he’s making noise  
  
tiny moans or stutters, huffs  
panting  
small, low gasps  
  
he’s embarrassed - each one settles in his chest and he’s near thankful all the skin is still reddened and taut from the operation. it makes the flush less dramatic, though _he_ knows it’s there, and he has a feeling Sarif knows too. but doesn’t draw attention to it - he’s thankful.  
  
the velvet voice in his ear is a droning hum, not quite static but the words melt together and he’s left with a stomach pooling hot. Does Sarif know what this is doing to him? so much positivity, a twist in his chest. something moving, rolling through him and he gasps sharp and louder than usual with the thrust that untangles him and  
  
“ _Come for me._ ”  
  
he does - hands pinned and fingers tangling and he’s stuttering as he falls apart under Sarif. There’s lips on his temple and the weight of him presses down and he’s still buried, still hard and aching and Adam is disappointed when he pulls out and doesn’t find his release as well. he’s still coming down, the fog dissipating. the beast receding with it.  
  
the sun sends it to scatter, afraid of clarity - it’s bones are too yellowed, the patches of fur sloughing. an ugly thing. something familiar, black and white. claws _tack_ ing across hardwood as it curls, crying out faint and Adam opens his eyes, gifting a shaky sigh to the bed.

there’s a small startle at the fabric that passes over him; hazy as Sarif wipes him down and then. his hands. each finger. they twitch slightly at the touch, but he allows it. he trains his eyes on the affection, the attention. on each joint, each dip and curve. Adam gives a small noise as he does, flexing each hand as he finishes and pulls away.  
  
lighter.  
  
exhausted. Sarif’s hand finds his hair and Adam can’t help but to move further into the bed, to lay. think about what’s transpired, the mirror. exposed, naked and fucked open. warm. “Yeah…” he remarks at David asking him to rest, yeah. sure. he can do that. he tosses the soiled sheet to the side of the bed near his laundry and curls another around him. he can’t tell aug from skin - everything is looping. thrumming. warm.  
  
he listens to the promise and nods. just nods. he doesn’t know what else to say, where this leaves him. them. half sitting up, sheets draped over him and he just  
  
leans himself forward to curl a hand around the back of David’s neck and returns the lingering kiss he hadn’t trusting himself with earlier. out of body, an action writhing with the heat of the moment.  
  
“Goodnight, Sarif.”  
  
Quiet, pulling back quickly to settle back in the sheets. Eyes bright and fluid, a silent _thank you_ buried in the lidded look.

 =*=

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or at least a kudos if you'd like! ;v; Encouragement is important tbh.


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